Broomsticks & Angel Blades
by Wings Of Sanguine
Summary: After explaining her vision that a shape-shifter was murdering people in Dean's image, they must help a witch exact revenge due to the fact that the same shifter has been after her family for hundreds of years. But the one catch was that they must do it before the witch reaches the end of her last life. (DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR WITCHES OF EAST END)
1. Chapter 1

The engine of the Impala purred as the Winchester brothers drove lazily along the blacktopped road. Houses and shops lined the streets of the town, a large sign declaring it to be named "East End" when they and first drove in. People strolled about, some in pairs, others single.

"So, where did Bobby say to meet again?" Dean asked his brother, squinting out the windshield as he turned a corner. Sam opened a map, the paper rustling as he pulled it taught. Lines and dots representing avenues and historical landmarks criss-crossed on the page, looking like one big confusing mess instead of anything that might have been slightly helpful. Tracing the dots with his eyes, he focused on a red on, a picture of a house drawn next to it.

"It says here the place is called the Bent Elbow," Sam said, "and it should be around this corner." Grumbling to himself, Dean spun the wheel, making a sharp left.

"What the heck kind of name is The Bent Elbow?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged, folding the map as best he could- it was hard to figure out which crease and fold net where.

"I don't know," he said simply, "I don't name the places." They drove along for a few minutes, Sam staring out the window, watching as residents walked by and did everyday things- nothing out of the ordinary. Gulping, Sam asked, "So, why does Bobby want to meet us?" He kept his eyes trained on the glass barrier that kept him in the car with his brother, who was now fiddling with the radio.

"Dunno," Dean said simply, settling on the classic rock station- As he usually does, Sam thought with arrogance- "All his note said was that there was a woman who wanted to meet us-"

"Woman?" Sam interrupted, "what woman?"

"He didn't say whom, just that she wanted to meet us," Dean scowled at his little brother as Aerosmith's "Highway To Hell" blared on the radio, and he couldn't help but star humming along, much to Sam's annoyance. Dean grinned- he loved annoying his brother any chance he could, no matter how small the supposed issue was. Music was one of them, seeing as Sam found it almost unbearable to listen to. _But then again_, Dean thought, _that's the rule_. Squinting out of the windshield, Dean jutted his chin down the block.

"Sammy, is that it?" he asked, catching his brother's attention, as he had currently been staring at a black cat for the past five minutes. Dean had noticed it too, but he didn't find anything extremely fascinating with it except for the fact that it had been walking funny- a bit lopsided, as if it was hit by something earlier. Shaking the thought of the cat out of his head, Dean repeated the question, unsure if Sam had heard him.

"Yeah, that's it- pull into here," he instructed, pointing out a rickety wooden sign naming the bar, as well as pointing towards the parking lot, which was hidden behind a large bush. As soon as he had parked, Dean and Sam climbed out of the car, slamming the doors behind them.

"The Bent Elbow," Dean read the sign almost wistfully, and Sam noted a sort of hopeful gleam in his brother's green eyes. Sam chuckled, kicking a rather large piece of gravel with the toe of his boot.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"It's nothing," Sam laughed, "besides, Bobby will probably get annoyed with having to wait any longer, no?" Dean grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"What, don't wanna get grounded?" he joked, "but yeah, he'll probably blow a gasket." Nodding in agreement, the two brothers approached the doors, Dean pressing a button on the keys to the Impala. As Sam walked in, he grinned with satisfaction, hearing the click of his baby's doors locking shut. Shutting the door of the place behind him, Dean joined Sam, who was sitting in the waiting area, tapping his foot impatiently.

"So, you see Bobby?" Dean asked, rubbing his chin. There was noise everywhere- whether it was coming from the televisions (that were playing some sort of sports event) or the people deciding to make a pit-stop for a drink- it was probably one of the loudest places he had been to on Earth. Looking around the sea of people, he finally spotted the old man- he was sitting in a corner booth, a blue and white baseball cap squashed atop his head. Catching Sam's attention, he and his brother waltzed through the crowd, sliding into empty chairs.

"About time you two idjits got here," Bobby said gruffly. A beer was resting on the table, the glass slick with condensation. The chairs creaked as the brothers sat down, Dean letting his eyes roam at the customers and employees, his eyes falling on a particularly young woman working the bar. From what he could see (and there was quite a distance between them), she had dark hair that was falling don just over her shoulders, reaching chest length, and she wore a black bustier over a pair of blue jeans.

"So, you said there was a woman you wanted us to meet?" Sam asked, eyeing his brother, who was focused intensely on the bartender. Sam jabbed Dean with his elbow, "Dude, focus." Dean blinked, still not focused on the conversation between them. The bartender was wiping down the counter with a rag, the motions of her wrist completely captivating to Dean.

"Dean?" Sam tried again, this time snapping his fingers in his face. Dean shoved his hand away, pushing the chair out to get up.

"I'll get us some drinks, 'kay?" he said, Sam and Bobby staring at his back in disbelief as he weaved his way through the crowds.


	2. Chapter 2

Wendy Beauchamp had women up that morning covered in sweat. Panting heavily, she sat up in bed, the egyptian cotton sheets her sister had cleaned the night before tickling her skin. The green t-shirt Joanna had lent her for pajamas was baggy, the sleeve hanging off her frame to reveal her shoulder.

_It was all too real_, she thought,_ too good to be real… _

Slowly, she climbed out of bed, straightening her clothes as best she could- not that she could wear ratty old pajamas all day (which she probably could en dup getting away with). She shrugged, ambling out of the small guest bedroom. The wooden floor was cool against the bottoms of her feet as she found her way to her sisters room, eyeing the large queen sized bed that rested in the corner of the room by the window. Ignoring it, she went straight for the closet, throwing the doors open wide. Clothes of every size, shape and color were stuffed on hangers, fighting to be taken out of the miserable darkness deemed suitable to keep them in.

"Geez," Wendy commented under her breath, "Joanna, my dear, you dress like a school teacher."

"That's because I am a school teacher," came a voice from behind her. Putting on a smile, Wendy swiveled around to face her sister, who clutched a paintbrush in one hand and yellow ceramic mug in the other.

"Of course you are," she joked, tossing the article she had been holding- an orange button down shirt with large black buttons going down the center- on the floor, much to Joanna's dismay.

"I teach art, Wendy," Joanna said snidely, walking over to pick up the clothes, "and I just washed this!" Wendy rolled her grey eyes at her- she was so picky sometimes!

"Well, just clean it again or something!" Wendy shot back, unable to come up with anything better. Admiring herself in the mirror, she began playing with the ends of her dark hair, biting her lower lip, "So, uh, how are the girls?" Joanna sent a loving glare her sister's way as she shoved the orange shirt back into the closet. Now that the girls knew what they were, they were alway spending time with her trying to perfect their magic.

"They're fine," she said with a shrug, crossing her arms over her chest, "now what do you want for breakfast?" Wendy pouted, her hands moving from he hair to the green and gold necklace that hung on her neck. Hanging on a golden chain was an emerald circle, and hanging from that circle was an oval shaped jewel, also emerald. IT gleamed as the sun hit it, sending small patch sod light to dance on the floor and the ceiling depending on how she moved.

"Got any cat food?" Wendy asked before going back to the closet. Shoving her hands inside, she rummaged around before pulling out a simple black frock with a golden design on the hem and neckline, a matching sash hanging from the waist, "How would this look?" Joanna rolled her eyes, going to the door, "it will look fine, Wendy, just get dressed, okay?"

"Whatever!" Wendy sent a laugh as Joanna left her alone, closing the door with a soft click behind her. As soon as the foo thad been shut, Wendy slipped the dress over her head, staring at the mirror as she straightened herself out.

"Looking good, hon," she told herself as she fluffed up her hair before decided to leave the mirror alone. She could hear a commotion downstairs as she entered the lower half of the house, wiggling her toes as she walked.

"But Mom-" she could hear her niece Freya whine as she walked into the kitchen. Joanna was standing at the stove, stirring something in a silver pot. The paintbrush she was holding earlier as now tucked behind her ear, orange paint dripping onto the back of a crisp white shirt.

"No buts Freya," Joanna cut her daughter off, "that's my rule!" Freya rolled her eyes with a scowl, suddenly brightening up when she saw Wendy planted firmly in the doorframe.

"Hey, Aunt Wendy!" Freya said cheerfully, patting the seat next to her, "what's new in the Wendiverse?"

"What's up with you?" she countered, shooting down Freya's question as the dream suddenly came back to her. _I won't tell them just yet_, she thought, taking the seat next to Freya. After all, it had only been recently the girls had found out about their powers. She didn't want to worry them too much. Freay suddenly scowled, tangling her dark hair in her fingers, her nails painted a deep, venomous red.

"Mom says Ingrid and I can't use magic in the house," she complained, resting her elbows on the table. Joanna was still focused on whatever was in the pot as she called over her shoulder, "It didn't matter when you didn't know, sweetheart."

"Yeah, but how am I going to learn if you won't let me use it?" Freya asked.

"Ingrid is fine with not using it," Joanna said, taking the pot off the stove with a cloth, "now eat up. I hear Saturday is a busy day at the bar." Carefully, she spooned what Wendy could only discern to be oatmeal into a bowl, the white substance sticky and somewhat lumpy looking.

"Of course she is," Freya muttered under her breath as she picked up a spoon sitting on the table, shoving it into her breakfast. Wendy wrinkled her nose as she watched her niece eat, some of the oatmeal falling small clumps on the table cloth.

"I'm sorry, but how can you guys eat that?" she asked exasperatedly. As she said this, Joanna had taken out a can of cat food, busily trying to figure to which way the can opener was supposed to attach to the lid. Wendy scoffed.

"Are you serious?" she chuckled as Joanna finally got it open after a few minutes of struggling, sliding it across the table. It came to a stop on a placemat, the smell of ground meat and fish wafting towards her. Joanna shrugged, a sly smile playing on he flips.

"You said 'cat food' so I gave you cat food!" Joanna said, wiping her hands on the cloth she and used to carry the pot, "now eat up." Freya stifled a laugh as she watched Wendy hesitantly pick up a spoon and scoop out a small piece of processed meat.

"Let's hope it tastes as good as the commercials say it does," she joked, and Freya let out a bellow, coughing as she nearly choked on her own food. Smirking, Wendy then shoved the spoon in her mouth.

And immediately regretted it. Chair screeching against the tiled floor, she rushed to the sink, letting out a retching sound while her stomach decided to send back whatever it was she and eaten. And it did not look pretty, with large gray clumps of half-digested food coming up for air. Spitting, Wendy removed stray strands of hair from her mouth, her face contorted into that of complete disgust.

"Like it?" Joanna asked, raising an eyebrow. Freya herself looked about to vomit, her spoon pattering against the table a she let it slip from her fingers.

"I'm done," she commented, getting up to toss her bowl in the sink. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she said, "Alright, I'm going." Joanna waved her out the door, Wendy standing at the sink, breathing somewhat heavily.

"Wendy?" Joanna asked curiously, "are you okay?" Nodding, Wendy straightened herself out, saying, "I think I'l go out myself."

"Meeting someone?" Joanna joked lightly as Wendy waltzed out the door. Once outside, she whipped out a cellphone, aging mad sit manifest in the pocket of her dress. Dialing, she held it put o her ear, nibbling her lower lip nervously as she did so.

"Bobby, thank god," she said, once the phone went to voicemail, "listen, it's Wendy. There's something I need to tell you."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean strolled up to the bar, licking his lips as he watched the bartender adjust the black bustier she wore, her chest spilling out the top just enough to look sexy yet respectable (if that was even remotely possible). The bartender was humming a song to herself, flipping the ends of her dar wavy hair over her shoulders as she looked up, her brown eyes widening once she saw Dean standing there.

"What can i get ya, buddy?" she asked, smacking her full red lips. Dean blinked, momentarily hypnotized by those lips, red lipstick smeared across them.

"Oh, uh, two beers," Dean answered, taking a quick peek behind chis shoulder to look at Bobby and Sam. The old man was sipping quietly on his brew while Sam sat uncomfortably in the chair- an due and good reason, making the chai rook like it belonged in a kindergarten classroom instead of a bar in a small town. Dean chuckled, turning back to the bartender. She was leaning her elbows on the table, giving Dean a full view of her cleavage, although rom the looks of it she really wasn't trying to do it on purpose.

"Anything else?" she asked, reaching underneath the counter. There was a clinking as she then placed two tall mugs on the table, flipping stray strands of hair out of her face. Dean shrugged, pulling out his wallet. He had made sure to bring extra money, depending on how expensive things in East End were.

"Yeah," he said, "what about your name?" A coy grin played on his lips as he watched her reaction- a mix of surprise and…. was it embarrassment? He wasn't too sure, judging by her rosy cheeks and pouty mouth.

"Freya," she said, pulling out a nozzle and spraying the cold liquid inside the glasses.

"A name fit for a goddess," Dean gave her a wink. At this, she frowned, placing her hands firmly on her hips. The nozzle fell from her hand, landing on the floor somewhere behind the bar. Dean shrugged, laughing uncomfortably. _Flattery usually works_, he thought awkwardly.

"Do you do this with every woman you see?" Freya asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Only pretty bartenders," Dean answered, but found out that would be the wrong answer, Freya's face turning to one of disgust.

"Listen pal," she said pointedly, "I don't care how pretty your eyes are, your tricks ain't working on me." Dean purse his lips, nodding somberly.

"And why won't my pretty green eyes work on you?" he dared, biting his tongue. People clinked glasses a few tables away, someone shouting incoherent nonsense to another fellow drunkard. The lights in the place suddenly became unbearable to stand under, and Dean could feel the perspiration under his layers of clothes.

"I'm taken," she said, "so I suggest you take your little games elsewhere, 'kay?" She smirked, pulling out the rag to start wiping the counter top again.

"Well, can I at least have the beers?" Dean asked, unsure if he was welcome to take them anymore. Freya just shrugged, jutting her chin at his table, "You may as well, considering I already poured 'em. Besides, it looks lil your boyfriend and his dad are getting impatient." Dean was taken aback, stealing a look at Sam, who met eyes at the precise moment he turned around. Much to Freya's amusement (and his dismay) Sam raised a hand, probably trying to figure out what the hold-up was. Bobby simply rolled his eyes, slamming his mug down on the table. Turning back to Freya, Dean jabbed a thumb in their direction, "You mean them?"

Freya nodded. They heard the door creak open, signaling that there was a new customer. Dean could feel the heat rush to his cheeks as he managed to stammer out an answer: "Th-that's my brother and a friend…" Freya rolled her eyes, ditching the rag on the counter to cross her arms over her chest, depriving Dean from looking any longer at what he now considered the "Valley of the Gods" because to him it looked absolutely great.

"Uh-huh," she muttered, "that's what they all say. Just take your beers and go, okay?" She gave him a sugary smile as he reluctantly grabbed the drinks, the glass cold against his skin as he gripped them tight. As Dean turned to go, he jumped, coming face to face with another incredibly attractive woman. A look of surprise came across her face as she nearly collided with Dean, making him almost spill the drinks.

"Sorry, hon!" she apologized, giving him a sly smile, as he nodded. A she got another look at her, he noticed she and the bartender looked very similar….

"S 'kay," he said, before turning around and heading back to the table, where Sam was starting to fidget, Bobby looking extremely bored.

"Flirting with the bartender again?" Sam poked fun as Dean slid him a beer, the liquid sloshing precariously over the edge.

"Whatever," Dean said, "it wasn't worth it anyway."

Sam shrugged, stealing a quick glance at her, an due and to agree that she was incredible to look at, with her dark hair and pouty lips. Sam lifted the glass, letting the drink wet his lips, "Why? She's pretty attractive."

"Because she thought…" Dean knew he was blushing. Sam broke out his megawatt grin.

"She thought what?" he asked. Bobby was now listening in, tipping the bill of his baseball cap upwards, revealing his squinting brown eyes.

"She thought we were gay," Dean said with an air, wrinkling his nose as he watched Sam widen his eyes with shock, although it really shouldn't have come as a surprise, considering it had happened multiple times before. Bobby scoffed, rapping his knuckles against the lacquered wood of the table.

"Alright, well, when you two lovebirds are done squabbling, we should probably be on the lookout for her, okay?" Reluctantly, the brother's nodded, letting their eyes dart in between the crowds.

Dean immediately rested his gaze on the bartender, who was now chatting with the woman he had bumped into, both women laughing somewhat loudly. He jutted his chin towards them, asking Bobby, "Is it the chick at the bar?"

"Which one?" Bobby asked, craning his neck to see who exactly Dean was talking about. Dean pointed to Freya, who was busily shaking a drink for the other woman. "Freya. The bartender."

"Freya?" Sam asked, "like, the Greek Goddess?" Dean snugged-he was never good with history so he had no clue what Sam was talking about. Bobby shook his head, wrapping his hand around his beer mug.

"Nah, that ain't her name," he said, keeping his eyes on Freya as well.

"Well, that would be nice to know before we began this little search, huh?"

"Whatever, you idjit," Bobby song at him, "her name is Wendy."

"Wendy what?" Sam prompted.

"Beauchamp," Bobby said, "Wendy Beauchamp." He then pointed to Freya and the other woman, "I have a hunch it's the woman in the black dress, but I can't be too sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Dean scowled.

"I've spoken with her before, I've never seen her in person," Bobby explained with a swig of his drink. Little droplets stuck to his beard and mustache, some of it dripping onto the table. Dean shrugged- it was the same with him and Benny, a vampire that had helped him escape Purgatory. Both had only spoken until they met face to face a few months smirked as he gestured to the bar, "Care to go try again?"

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Dean grumbled a curse at Sam as he once again made his way to the bar, smiling when Freya sent a smile his way. The other woman- whom he was assuming for the moment was the Wendy Beauchamp Bobby was talking about- clasped her ahdns tougher, resting them on the counter of the bar.

"Can't take no for an answer, huh?" Freya said arrogantly, then to the woman, "So Aunt Wendy, what was it you were telling gem again?" The woman- Wendy, Dean tucked the name into his thoughts- gave Dean a wary look before saying to Freya, "Are you are you want me to tell you here?"

"It's okay, really," Freya giggled, a noise that sent Dean to heaven right there. It was a mix of tinkling bells and whistling wind-chimes, all wrapped up in red. Wendy shrugged, casting her grey eyes down.

"Alright," she said, quieter than before, "so this morning, I woke up covered- drenched in sweat-"

"You said that was from the dream," Freya said. Dean grinned, totally unaware of what they were talking about. Awkwardly, he slid onto eh stool next to Wendy. cutting in with, "Nightmare?"

Freya and Wendy both shot him such deadly glares Dean suddenly felt as if he might be sent back to Purgatory just sitting there- and as far as he knew, it was not a great place to be. He coughed, "Sorry, sorry."

"Anyway," Wendy said, slapping her hand against the bar, "so I woke up covered in sweat, and it was from the dream, but this wasn't a normal dream…." As she tabled on, Dean furrowed his brow- _What does she mean, not a normal dream? _Freay suddenly gasped, grabbing Wendy;s hand.

"You mean you had one?!" she squealed excitedly, Wendy nodding, but Dean noticed that she wasn't as happy about it as Freya.

"Freya, sweetheart, you can not tell your mother, you understand?" Wendy warned, "because this was not one of those fortune cookie visions, there is no good part!" Freya's face fell, lower lip quivering.

"What….?"

"I know, it's bad, but I can't tell Joanna just yet," Wendy said, trying her best to comfort Freya, but unfortunately getting nowhere. Her face was shell-shocked, complete and utter astonishment.

"B-But-" Freya began, Wendy shushing ghee before continuing, "I know, I know, but there's someone who can help me."

"Who?"

"He asks dmd to meet him here, he says he knows some people who can help." Now Dean was intrigued, distracted from Freya's luscious lips for a moment.

"But what's his name?" Freya let out a nervous laugh.

"Bobby," Wendy said with a heavy sigh, "Bobby Singer."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean jumped up suddenly from the bar, "Did you just say Bobby Singer?" he questioned, the woman's silvery eyes wide and startled. She looked back to Freya, nodding simply.

"Why?" she asked, "you know him?" Licking his lips Dean nodded, letting his eyes trail back to his table. Sam held a hand up at him, probably getting extremely impatient that he was still there and not back at the table. Dean nodded, fixing the shoulders of his shirt where they had started riding up his armpit.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "you need to talk to him?" Wendy nodded and Dean started walking over to his table, beckoning Wendy to follow him. He noticed her give Freya a confused shrug before getting up gracefully out of her seat, careful not to fall in her shoes as she followed him. As soon as the two approached the table, Bobby looked at the woman in surprise- his hunch had bee correct!

"I see you bought back a souvenir," Sam joked, jutting his chin at Wendy, who just looked at the brothers, trying her best to discern what was happening. After a few minutes her confused state turned into that of contentment once her eyes fell on Bobby Singer, who tucked the bill of his baseball cap down low over his eyes. Smoothing the skirt of her dress, she plopped herself down next to him, leaving Dean to stand.

"So, Bobby," she said, staring right at Sam, "did you get my call?" Sam scoffed.

"I'm Sam," he said with a laugh. Wendy faltered as Sam said, "That's Bobby." He pointed to the man sitting next to him, in a plaid shirt and green vest. Wendy inspected the scruff that decorated his chin and upper lip before nodding her head.

"Of course he is," she mumbled, adding under her breath, "why couldn't you be pretty for once?!"

"Just get to the point, lady," Bobby snapped, "are you Wendy Beauchamp or not?" Wendy rolled her eyes at this, her bracelets jingling as she pointed at him.

"One, I am not old-" she paused t reconsider, then nodded, "okay i am ld, but I still loo pretty damn good for a woman who's lived for more than one hundred years…." Sam and Dena exchanged glances- did she just say what they thought she said? That isn't possible…. Dean thought as Bobby cut her off to laugh.

"Honey, no one mentioned that you looked old," he pointed out, making Wendy stop in her tracks. Nodding she said, "Of course no one did. But anyway- you got my call?"

"Why do you think we're sitting her now?" Bobby said incredulously. Wendy blew a raspberry.

"Um…. the only reason that my brother and I-" Dean put emphasis on 'brother', hoping the idea would pop into Freya's head that he was not gay. Of course, Freya was not at the table with them, instead shaking a drink for a tall handsome man at the bar.

"Wait a second…." Wendy looked from Dean to Sam then to Bobby "please don't tell me that these are the guy you wanted me to meet with?!" Bobby nearly waved a hand, presenting Sam and Dean with a flourish. Slapping a hand to her forehead, Wendy sighed. This was not at all what she was expecting. The wood of the table was rough against her elbows as she rested her chin in her hands, letting her silver eyes trail over Dean, then rest on Sam.

"These are the guys," Bobby said, "take them or leave them."

"But they don't look like witches," Wendy said, making Sam and Dean raise eyebrows in question, "they look like models!"

"Well, for one thing, these idjits ain't models," Bobby shook his head, sighing heavily, as if he was contemplating how to word his next sentence- which he probably was. Too often, he said something strange or rude and it affected the opposite party great. _Come on_, Dean thought, _don't fuck this one up, 'kay? _After a few minutes of silence, he added, "and they sure as hell ain't witches." At this, Wendy's eyes widened, and Dean thought he could see her pupils dilate into small slits, becoming silver colored cat eyes instead of that of a woman.

"Well, what are they?" she asked, "because you sounded pretty confident they would be able to help over the phone!"

"And I thought you would look like an old hag when you said you were a witch, so I guess the feelings mutual," Bobby shot back, making Wendy sputter in response.

"Okay, that was one time," Wendy raised a finger, "and that was in Salem when they burned everyone at the stake for no reason!" Sam widened his puppy-dog brown eyes.

"How old are you, exactly?" he asked tentatively. Wendy smiled at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Honey I'm way older than you will ever be in your life," she stated, "but if you want to, hazard a guess." Sam pursed his lips, Wendy training her eyes on him like a lion stalking hits prey. Dean grinned, leaning over the table.

"So, what's being burned at the stake like?" he asked suddenly. Wendy shrugged.

"Like you're taking a bath with Satan," she said jokingly. Everyone went silent, and her smile faded, "What is it?"

"We don't talk about….." Bobby trailed off. Wendy let her eyes dart between the three men- Dean had tensed up, rolling his shoulders bad and forth. Sam looked as if he was about to burst into tears or lash out in anger as he trembled slightly. Bobby was quiet, coughing to break the awkward silence.

"Oh….." Wendy realized, "oops."

"Oops is right, Miss Beauchamp," Bobby said.

"Is he really that bad?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. Some of her dark hair spilled over her shoulder, hanging like a curtain behind her back.

"He is when he's inside you, that's for sure," Sam piped up uncomfortably.

"You were possessed…." she said with a wince, "by Satan….."

"Yeah. Not fun." Wendy shrugged.

"At least you aren't cursed," she said, then with a tap of her necklace, "my sister Joanna and I have been cursed for eternity. I'm actually really jealous of her because she gets to have kids every single time." Bobby, who had been taking a swig of his beer, slammed the mug on the table. Foam clung to his mustache, looking like little snowflakes.

"Excuse me?" he said with bewilderment, Wendy nodding ferociously.

"Oh yeah," she said, "the bartender here? My niece Freya. She and her sister Ingrid have been reborn so many times, I myself have lost count. I meanwhile am infertile, so…. yeah."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Sam laughed nervously, "reborn?"

"Yeah, you know, they die, and Joanna will suddenly find herself nine months pregnant with Freya all over again," she snapped her fingers, "just like that. And three months later would come Ingrid-"

"How long do they manage to survive?" Sam asked. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Funny thing about that," Wendy said, "they never seem to make it past the age of thirty, so-"

"That's bull," Dean cut her off.

"Excuse me?" she said.

"I don't believe you," Dean said, "not in a million years."

"After all you've been through?" Bobby chimed in with a hiccup, "you better believe it, you idjit!"

"Just ignore him, Miss Beauchamp," Sam said, "anyway, if you sister and your nieces are reborn s well, being reborn until the age of thirty, what about you? What's your curse?" Wendy gave an awkward smile, her nails tapping the emerald green jewels hanging aroun dyer neck on a slim golden chain.

"A necklace?" Dean said in disbelief, "your curse is high fashion?"

"No," Wendy rolled her eyes, "this necklace represents my life span."

"Life span?"

"Yes, pretty boy," Wendy explained, "it stays green for a good portion of my many lives and once I reach my last one-"

"Wait, you've lived more than once?!" Sam exclaimed, rapping his knuckles on the table.

"Well, I was burned at the stake in Salem, I opened a boutique in the fourth presinct in New Orleans back in the fifties, I was married, I was divorced, I was widowed-"

"Miss Beauchamp," Bobby tried catching her attention- they were rely getting off topic now.

"-Oh! I was also eaten by a crocodile!" she said, counting off her fingers, "not fun, let me tell you. And this morning-"

"Let me guess," Dean growled, "you died." Wendy nodded, her hands going instinctively to her hair.

"Yeah, so I'm sorry if my hair isn't perfect," she sighed, playing with the ends, "I was hit by a car, in case you were curious."

"Miss Beauchamp!" Bobby snapped at her, calling her to attention, " if you please! I don't have time to be sitting around here playing twenty questions."

"Geez, don't get so worked up, old-timer!" she laughed, then with a cough, "but you're right, we're getting off-topic. So, you know why i called, right?"

"You said something about a vision, if I'm correct," Bobby prompted. His beer sloshed a bit over the top of his mug as he pick fit up landing in small droplets on the table.

"Yeah, so you guys have hear of shape-shifters before, right?" Wendy asked, and when no one answered, she went on, "I'll take that as a yes. Anyway in my vision-"

"Hey, um, Aunt Wendy?" said a voice, and everyone looked up to see Freya, standing next to her aunt in her black top and tight jeans- which this up close, was too much for Dean to handle. As he looked her up and down, she bit her lip, some of her red lipstick staining her brilliantly white teeth.

"Yeah, hon?" Wendy turned her attention to her niece, "what is it?"

"I just wanted to let you now that I was going to go home," Freya said with a nod.

"But I thought your shift didn't end until two?" Wendy asked, infusion crossing her eyes. Freya shrugged, acutely aware that Dean was currently trying to check her out as much as possible before she left.

"Yeah, well, Killian texted saying he wanted to go out, so I'm meeting him at the house," Freya explained, "and he says hi. he should be coming over for dinner later." She sent Dean a set of daggers as she went o hug her aunt, giving Sam and Bobby a smile as she then went to leave.

"Who's Killian?" Bobby asked as Freya disappeared, and the tinkle of the bell above the poor signaled that she had left the premises, much to Dean's disappointment.

"Her boyfriend," Wendy said waving away the question as if it were a fly buzzing annoyingly in her face, "anyway, in my vision, I was running through these woods, and there was fog everywhere, screams…." her voice trailed off as she shivered, her jewelry rattling on her wrists. The three meant exchanged looks, really hoping they didn't think what they thought t was she was talking about.

"….and all of a sudden as I'm running, I see Joanna, by this gnarled black wood tree," Wendy went on, oblivious to their uncomfortable glances, "and I go to run to her, but as soon as I reach her, I see that she isn't standing by the tree, she's pinned to it, with… with a knife of some sort…. and…." By now she had started tearing up, small sobs breaking through her sentences. Hesitantly, Sam reached across the table, patting her hand kindly, trying to console her.

"Just let it all out, Wendy," he said, "just tell us what happened next." The woman nodded, letting Sam rest his hand on hers for a moment longer before drawing away.

"So, she's dead, right?" Wendy recapped, "and I suddenly see this shadow flash by. I run after it, but then find Freya's body, sprawled on the ground, and a blade similar to the one in Joanna was going right through her skull…." The men winced as they pictured it- Freya's pretty face stained with red, skull cracked to pieces. Shaking the image away as best he could, Dean cleared his throat, "So you mention Joanna and Freya, what about your other niece, what was her name…."

"Ingrid," Wendy said. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, what about Ingrid? Is she there?" A stern looked replaced the cocky glint in his eye, his relaxed demeanor now all business.

"Well, after I find Freya and Joanna, I see the flash again," she said, "and there's a third scream. I run towards the sound, but I just…. stop." The wood of the table was scratching Dean's palms as he leaned in, the fabric of his clothes straining against his muscle.

"Why'd you stop?" Dean pressed. Wendy trembled momentarily, tears beginning to dot the corners of her eyes again.

"It was Ingrid," she said, "I was standing at her grave." Licking his lis, Dean sighed. The vision sounded like something out of a horror movie to him, but with everything he and Sam had done in the past, it wasn't that hard to believe, a witch who predicts that her entire family is going to die soon.

"And the flash?" Sam asked gently, "did you see it again?" Wendy nodded.

"I saw it again out of the corn rod my eyes and when I turned around, I was stabbed- killed, in the middle of the strange woods with my family, and a gravestone." She gulped as she finished her tale, "and then it goes black. The end." Nodding, Sam leaned back in his chair, Bobby lifting his beer mug to his lips. A she took a particularly long slurp, Wendy asked, "What do you think it means? I mean, I've always been able to read visions and auras, but I'm not so sure about this one."

"What part do you not get about it?" Dean retorted, "your entire family dies, including you." Sam sent him a glare as he then said, "The question, Dean, is who kills her entire family including her?" Wendy cast her eyes down, staring at her lap, the soft fabric of the dress Joanna lent her that morning.

"There was one thing," she said finally, "before everything blacks out."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"I saw the killer, before everything disappeared," Wendy said, "and he was holding a long silver knife, with a curved end." _That sounds like an Angel Blade_, Dean thought, crossing his arms. Nodding, Sam encouraged her to tell them more, anything she might be able to remember.

"He had on a black t-shirt, with a green shirt on over it," Wendy began describing the killer in her vision, looking between the brothers. Her eyes widnes a bit when she looked at Dean, realizing that he, in fact, was wearing a black shirt with a green shirt over it.

"What else?" Sam said.

"He had short blondish brown hair, she said, keeping her eyes on Dean, her intense gaze making the hunter squirm slightly as she said, "and his eyes were glowing green….."

Sam coughed- most likely front eh dust that swirled through the air of the bar- saying, "Okay, what else? There's a lot of people with blond hair and black t-shirts, you know?" Wendy pointed to Dean, much to Sam and Bobby's surprise.

"It was him," she said finally, her voice grove and hollow, "in my vision….. he killed my entire family in my vision."


	5. Chapter 5

Dean scoffed. This Wendy had to be insane, even for a witch.

"You have got to be kidding me," he said, "I don't even know your family." Wendy shook her head, great eyes wide with shock as pointed insistently.

"No, I know! It was you!" she said adamant, "you were there- wherever I was-"

"You said there were black trees and fog, right?" Sam cut in. Wendy nodded, and he noticed her arms had begun to tremble slightly.

"That would be Purgatory, Miss Beauchamp," Bobby said. Wendy looked taken aback. She had never heard of the place. Only Heaven and Hell, but it seemed that every time she died, neither place wanted her, so she was always back where she started, a cat searching for a home.

"Purgatory?" she asked incredulously, "that's a thing?" Sam nodded, his mind flashing back to when he himself had tried to escape, getting Bobby out of Hell as well. It hadn't been fun, being chased down by angry shrouds and vengeful vampires. But never had they seen a witch.

"Unfortunately," Sam grumbled, picking up his beer and taking a swig.

"Wow…." Wendy trailed off.

"Yeah," Dean said, "anyway, I highly doubt it was me-"

"There was that Shifter that took your form and murdered all those people that one year," Sam pointed out, and Dean felt himself turning red, the heat rising to his cheeks. Wendy widened her eyes, a grin pulling at her lips.

"That was you?" she asked, "I mean, I saw it on the news, you guys were everywhere- practically famous!" Dean rolled his eyes,

"Not when you're on the Most Wanted list and on TV!" Dean shot back. In fact, as they spoke, he was still on the FEDS most wanted list, having dodged them since he found out it was a shifter, since saying that a monster made him do it was just not going o slide with the police. Dean glowered at Wendy, at the smirk grin on her face.

"That's kinda funny, you gotta admit," she laughed, tossing her black hair over her shoulder, "I mean, it sounds better than getting eaten by a crocodile-"

"You were eaten by a crocodile?!" Sam asked incredulously. Wendy glanced at Bobby, who merely rolled his eyes.

"I thought we covered this!" she said, "and besides, I need to figure out what exactly happened in my vision-"

"You just said it was Ken here," Bobby snorted, jabbing a thumb at Dean. His her was sitting on the table, getting warmer with each second it sat untouched. The music had changed to a pop song- something by a band called All Time Low, as the radio guy had announced.

"Well, yeah- but he says it was a Shifter, whatever that is," Wendy countered, the golden bangles on her wrist jingled as she waved her hands around.

"It seems there's more to the magical world than you think, Miss Beauchamp," Bobby sighed. Wendy nodded in agreement, amazed that there were more things out there besides witches. As far as she knew, in the magical world, witches were making up ninety-nine percent of the magical population; with a few being gods and whatnot, but those were extremely rare. She opened her mouth to say something when her phone rang, a bubbly Spice Girls song. Dean chuckled as she raised a finger.

"Gotta get this, hold on," she said as she peered at the caller ID. Pressing the phone up to her ear, "Hello?" A look of confusion crossed her face as the caller jabbered away, their voice tinny, sentences running together, garbled through the phone. Wendy sighed, "Freya, hon, I'm gonna put you on speak, okay?" She place the phone n the table, "Okay, go."

"Mom said to call you, tell you to come home," came Freya's silky voice, sounding like thick molasses in Dean's ear- if molasses had a sound to begin with. He was pretty sure it was what Freya sounded like, smooth and creamy.

"What? Why?" Wendy asked, glancing up at Bobby, who just shrugged at her from across the table.

"Well, Killian is over, and I want him to meet the family!" Freya announced, then adding with a whisper, "he's with Ingrid in the living room right now and I'm afraid she's boring him to death- literally." Wendy laughed, scratching a long nail against the table.

"Okay, well I'll be over in a sec, I just have some unfinished business," she said, winking at the hunters. A sigh crackled through the speaker, followed by Freya's annoyed tone:

"Do you mean throes three guys at the bar I saw you with? Because in all honesty, the one that looks like Barbie was giving me looks. The moose wasn't too bad looking though." Bobby nudged Sam with his elbow, watching as a look of disbelief crossed Dean's face, Sam paling in comparison.

"Well, judging by the looks on their faces, they aren't taking that opinion too well," Wendy old her.

"Shit- you're still with them?!" Freya cried in shock, "you should have told me!" There was laughter in the background- _Probably Joanna_, Wendy guessed as Freya continued, "Anyway, just come home okay? Mom is cooking right now, so it should be on the table once you get here."

"Alright, see you later!" Wendy bid farewell to her niece, the dial tone ringing as Freya hung up. Collecting her things, Wendy stood up, chair scratching the floor as she got up. Once she realized they weren't following her, she beckoned them over, "Come on guys! Time to meet my family!"


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as they rolled up to the Beauchamp property, Dean whistled, green eyes raking in every detail. The white house had a black shingled roof, the porch wrapping around in the front. Aside from a nice landing, there was a comfy swing hanging solely by the front door. He shook his head- this was absolutely insane.

"Is everyone in this town loaded or is it just you?" Dean asked as they got out of the cr. The gravel crunched under his boots as they ambled up the driveway, and he noticed a dining area outside, a wooden picnic table with matching chairs, all nicely cushioned with a red seat. Wend shrugged.

"Nah- you should have seen that bitch Penelope's house," she said quickly, "it was glorious-"

"I take it you don't like her very much," Bobby crossed his arms. The wood creaked under their combined weight, Wendy rummaging through her purse for her house key. Birds trilled in some nearby trees.

"Well, it isn't exactly nice to poison your daughter-in-law's mother then resurrect her sister whom her aunt accidentally killed in the 1900's, now is it?" Wendy said with boredom, "Oh- here we go!" She lifted up a small house key, the metal catching the lights, "and we're in!" She shoved it in the key hole on the door, a click as she twisted it and swung the door open. The brothers exchanged glances- it was obvious that this was not exactly the most friendly neighborhood. A cld draft blew in when Dean slammed the door shut, following Wendy down a long narrow hall.

"Wendy?" called a woman's voice, "is that you?"

"Yes it is!" Wendy called back, beckoning the hunters to follow, "and I bought friends!" The three men followed her into a large living room, a fireplace on the far wall with a mint green couch sitting in front of it. The walls were a mix of white and forest green, with pictures hanging in intricately made frames on every wall.

"Aunt Wendy, hey!" Freya waltzed into the room, and Dean found himself staring at her once more. She had changed since her shift at the bar, now wearing a pair of black skinny jeans with gold flats, a white lace top hanging off her shoulder, revealing deliciously tan skin and the straps to what Dean figured was a black lace bra. Wendy wrapped her arms around Freya, and Dean noticed her nails were pointed, like a cat's claws.

"Is Killian still alive?" Wendy joked, poking Freya's shoulder, "I mean, you said Ingrid was literally boring him to death, so…" Freya grinned, letting out a aft laugh.

"No, no, Killian is fine, Wendy," she confirmed, finally noticing the hunters awkwardly standing there. What made it funny though was the fact that Sam towered over all of them, and Wendy was wearing four inch heels. She jutted her chin at them, "why are they here?"

Nodding, Wendy clapped her hands, spinning her rings on her fingers nervously, "They are here to help with the vision I told you about earlier…." Freya gaped, looking from her aunt to the men, then back to the men. They looked like models! _Well_, Freya thought as she then scrunched her nose, _except the old one. _Heels clicked on the polished wood floor and soon there was a third woman, with the same wavy black hair as Freya and Wendy. Sam gulped- _Jessica had black hair_, he thought, feeling sadness begin to wash over him. The woman had on a stained art smock, red splotches all over the front, protecting a silk purple shirt and black pants. She pointed a wet brush at them, red dotting the floor.

"Who is this?" she asked, her tone accusatory and cold. Sighing, Wendy crossed her arms, tapping her foot.

"Please don't get mad!" she squealed suddenly, tensing her shoulders and the woman immediately groaned, scolding her, "Wendy, you did this with Victor and then with Leo-"

"Actually I had nothing to do with Leo showing up here!"

"-and with these men too? I mean, what else are you gong to do, open a boutique in my living room?!" Wendy grinned, raising a finger.

"Did that in New Orleans, remember?" she hinted, adding, "okay, they're here to help-"

"Help with what?" the woman froze, eyeing them suspicious, her eyes boring into them, digging to get under their skin. Dean tugged at the collar of his shirt- this was definitely an awkward visit (not one of the most awkward, but definitely on the list.)

"Uh, Mom?" Freya piped up, Wendy sighing as she turned on her daughter.

"Yes dear?"

"Where's Killian?" Freya asked innocently, "I mean…" She pointed to the kitchen, swirling a finger as if mixing a drink.

"He's with Ingrid in the backyard, dear," she said. Smiling, Freya gave Wendy and the woman a quick hug, shoes taping the floor as she stalked out. Dean jumped as there was a slam, followed by an awkward silence, staring at the two witches and his brother.

"So…." Sam finally said, trailing off as he plucked at a stray fabric on his plaid shirt, "you have a lovely home, Mrs…."

"Beauchamp," she finished for him, extending a hand. Sam couldn't help but notice her cringe slightly as he took her hand and shook it. Nodding, she added, "But you can call me Joanna." Sam grinned politely, gesturing to Bobby.

"This is Bobby Singer, my brother Dean," he introduced, "and I'm Sam. Thank you for having u- OW!" He nearly screeched as Dean jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow- hard. Glaring, Sam gritted his teeth at his brother, who chuckled like a dork.

"You make it to easy, Sammy," Dean grinned, then towards Wendy, "so now what?"

"What do you mean, 'now what'?" Joanna asked, eyeing Wendy with scrutiny. The witch turned red- she didn't want to tell her sister because go this reaction exactly. Joanna was always overbearing- not that it wasn't nice, but it could sometimes be a bit much in her opinion.

"Well, I kinda sorta had a vision…." Wendy mumbled. Joanna widened her eyes, hand planted on her hip.

"Wendy why didn't you tell me!?" she squawked, "now I don't feel guilty about giving you cat food for breakfast!" She was about to barge through to the kitchen, then turned to the three men, "You boys go wait in the yard, make yourself at home, alright?" Uncomfortably, the three men made their way through the kitchen and out the back door, closing he door quietly behind them.

The yard itself was pretty large, with green grass that was neatly trimmed, the same outdoor dining set Dean saw earlier sitting a little off to the side, a few feet from the back door. The sun beat down on them as they approached the table where three people sat- Sam rolled his eyes as Dean instantly recognized the back of Freya's head a white lily poking out from her black tresses and behind her ear.

"Dean, wait-" Sam tried, only to end up helping Bobby follow, his face turning red as one of the people- a young woman with strawberry blond curls- pointed them out as they walked up to them.

"Hi, can we help you?" she said, the three men making a stop at the table. Sam licked his lips, shooting a glance at Dean. He was already trying his best not to make goo-goo eyes at Freya, although it was obvious that it wasn't working. A man was sitting next to her, with shaggy brown hair that barely reached past his neck, dark eyes questioning Dean as he stood there.

"I apologize, for my brother," Sam said, nodding politely, "this is Bobby Singer, I'm Sam Winchester." Ingrid shook his hand as he gulped, stealing a quick look at Dean, "and that's my brother, Dean." Nodding, Ingrid looked between the brothers.

"Well, you seem like nice people, but why are you in my backyard?" she inquired, clasping her hands behind her back. Sam opened his mouth to explain, instead Bobby's annoyed scowl coming out.

"Your aunt invited us over," he explained, "said she had a vision." At his statement the women let shock creep into her hazel eyes, although they looked to be almost gray or green. The woman bit her lip, saying, "Well, if you know Aunt Wendy-"

"You guys know Wendy?" Freya scoffed, leaning into the man's shoulder.

"We've been calling each other on and off," Bobby explained, "we finally met in person today." Freya pursed her lips.

"What do you think, Ingrid?" she laughed to the woman, "is she gonna give Leo the boot?" the woman- Ingrid- shook her head as she sat back down, fixing the skirt of a white dress with little black birds printed on it.

"Nah, they love each other too much," she denied, then gesturing to the hunters, "please, sit down- I'm sure you have a lot to explain, right?" Nodding, Sam went to sit, when Bobby dug his fingers into Sam's shoulder, the fabric bunching between his knuckles.

"You idjit," he said, much to the surprise of Ingrid, although she could tell it was in more of an endearing way than nasty, "did you really forget?" The brothers exchanged glances until it hit them.

"Right, right," Dean sighed heavily, "am I gonna have to go back to the bunker to get it?" Now it was the sisters turn to share a look of confusion, the man simply shrugging as he wrapped an arm around Freya's shoulder. The old man shook his head, licking his lips- it was utter than he expected.

"Nah- Garth probably snuck it into the trunk of the Impala," Bobby said, then to Ingrid, "Miss Beauchamp-"

"Mr. Singer, are you alright?" she asked, Sam nearly dragging him as he lifted a hand, pointing to a chair- and empty one was siting besides Ingrid, the man being on the left of it himself. Dean took one last look at the trio, lingering momentarily on Freya before stalking back through the door and inside the house.

"Well, I can't walk, but other than that I'm just dandy," he said sarcastically, cracking a smile at their faces as they laughed, "but do you mind if I sit down?" Shaking her head, she slung his other arm over her shoulder, helping Sam get him into a chair.

"Sorry, I didn't realize," she apologized. Bobby shook his head.

"Wait, then how did you get to the bar?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Had Garth carry me in with some of his werewolf buddies-"

"Did I just hear him correctly?" the man said, twisting a finger in his ear, making Freya laugh, "or am I going insane?" Freya shook her head, ruffling his hair.

"He said werewolf alright, Killian," she answered. Killian nodded at Bobby in greeting, the old man returning the favor. He was already liking this kid, keeping shut when he was supposed to. The door creaked open and everyone turned their attention to Joanna and Wendy as they strode outside, each carrying a tray of food and drinks. The glasses rattled as Wendy set her tray down shakily, handing out what looked like lemonade.

"So," Joanna wiped her hands free of condensation on her pants, "Sam, can I get you a chair?" Sam opened his mouth when Bobby answered him.

"He can have mine once his idjit brother gets my chair from the car," the man said, "so don't worry about it." As if on cue, Dean rejoined the group, carefully heaving a wheelchair in his arms. The hinges creaking, he set it down in the grass, helping Bobby ease into it. Sighing, he plopped himself down in the now empty seat, much to Sam's annoyance after being promised it.

"Sorry about that- the chair is just so damn heavy…" he rubbed the back of his neck, noticing Killian for the first time, "Dean Winchester. You?"

"Killian," he said, crossing his arms. Nodding, Dean eyed the way he let Freya lean into him, the big smile on her face when he pecked her on the cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks- a factor of jealousy, he knew.

"Now that we have formalities out of the way," Ingrid coughed, "care to explain what's going on?" She razed an eyebrow at Wendy and the men.

"Well, I told Freya earlier, and your mom found out anyway," Wendy sighed reluctantly, gold bagels jangling on her thin wrist, "I had a vision, and I called Bobby because he said he'd be able to help-"

"A vision? Of what?"

It took a few minutes, but they were soon able to fill everyone in, explaining the whole process. It was a bit grueling for the brothers to have to remember everything- almost getting killed multiple times, actually dying then being bought back; it wasn't something anyone would want to remember.

"So you guys are hunters," Ingrid tried to make sense of their story, "and you guys hunt everything that goes bump in the night?" Sam nodded, Dean pursing his lips.

"That's one way to put it, although we probably strayed farther into the whole 'making deals' territory and stuff," Sam said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was beginning to feel as sweaty as the condensation resting on the glasses of lemonade, it was getting hot. Everyone was sitting now except the taller hunter, handing out cookies and drinks as they listened to their story.

"What do you mean by that?" Freya asked, leaning forward with her elbows on the table.

"There have been a shit-ton of mishaps along the way," Bobby cut in ruffly, "I mean, among the werewolf hunting, vampire bites…." he began listing off things on his fingers, "then of course there was that one time Sammy over here sold his soul-"

"You can do that?!" Wendy guffawed, nearly dropping her glass as she gaped wide-eyed at him. Sam shrugged sheepishly.

"It was to bring my brother back to life, okay?" he admitted. Dean coughed, tugging at the collar of his shirt uncomfortably. Wend turned on him, asking, "You died?!"

"Both of us," he said, "more than once, actually."

"And I thought being cursed was bad," she muttered, taking a sip of lemonade. It was tart and burned against her tongue.

"So, you guys are witches too?" Joanna dared, cocking her head slightly, trying to make sense of what exactly they were telling her. Reflecting on her own life, it didn't sound crazy to her. Outlandish, but not certifiable.

"No," Dean coughed, sputtered lemonade everywhere, "not witches. Hunters. Demons, angels, crap like that." Wiping his mouth, he added quickly, "of course, the angel part is only when we really have to." Sam nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, that seems to be happening a lot lately," he said. There was an awkward silence amongst the group, a cold breeze billowing through the yard, picking up dead leaves, weaving throughout eh grass. It was Wendy who spoke first.

"So how many times have you guys died?" was her question, her hand flying to the green pendant around her neck. Bobby cracked his knuckles.

"I don't think-"

"Aw, come on- I told you guys Ingrid was ressurected once! How many times have you guys died?" There was a playfulness in her tone, her gray eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Wendy please," Joanna reprimanded her.

"It's okay, really," Sam said, then to Wendy, "for me, it was three. Bought back the same amount." Nodding, Wendy jutted her chin at Dean, "How about him, huh?" Bobby saw the shock creep into Sam's eyes- it really was unbelievable, what could get to him, strike a nerve.

"Well?" Wendy prompted, "how many?"

"One hundred and three," he said softly, although not soft enough to be misheard, apparently. Now it was the witches turns to be shocked, Killian pulling Freya closer to his side. Wendy and Ingrid chuckled, Joanna shaking her head in disapproval at her sister- she was always so pushy, trying to weasel every little detail of someone's life out of them for her own amusement.

"Wow," she said, "that is a lot!"

"We came to help you!" Bobby suddenly snapped, "so if you want to sit here and gossip then I'll have them wheel me outta here and drive home!" Wendy raised her hands in defense, rolling her eyes at him.

"Alright, alright," she said, "who got your panties in a bunch, huh?"

"Wendy!" Joanna cried, "don't be rude!"

"It's fine, Miss Beauchamp," Sam said, although it was obvious he was extremely uncomfortable. The lemonade was turning warm the longer it sat out, the glasses slick with condensation. The ice in the pitcher had melted, making it worse. Killian was sitting there awkwardly, arm around Freya's shoulder as the guests bickered. Finally it was Bobby who broke it, clearing his throat with a raspy cough.

"Well, you want us to find this shifter or what?" he asked.

"Last time it was Penelope," Joanna filled him in, "but we killed her, so she's out of the equation." Nodding, Bobby crossed his arms. his eyes were shaded underneath his blue baseball cap, blocking the beau champs view of his face, save the rounded chin and scruffy beard/mustache combo he and going on.

"So you're saying this has happened before?" The women nodded, Joanna collecting the glasses, as they now were being completely ignored. Killian raised a hand, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Yeah, sorry about my mom," he apologized.

"So, got any idea where this shifter might be?"

"In my vision it was him," Wendy pointed to Dean, "the shifter looked exactly the same."

"It wouldn't be a first," Dean admitted, "but I guess it happens, oh well."

There was an awkward pause, glasses clinking as Joanna piled them on a tray, Wendy getting up to grab the pitcher and follow her int the house. The door slammed, leaving them with the other three witches in the yard. Dean pointed to Killian, "You got magic too?"

"Yup," he agreed, "indeed I do."

Dean's face paled. If he wanted to get Freya's attention, he was going to have to compete with this guy? He looked like fricking Flynn Rider, with the smolder turned on at all times. Dean shook his head.

He knew it wasn't worth it, but he may as well try.


End file.
